


Just Let Me Hold You

by sadbutchhours



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, One Shot, cordelia has an existential crisis, sarah paulson kiss my forehead challenge, they kiss a lot in this fic, using cordelia to work through my own baggage WOO
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:41:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27151264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadbutchhours/pseuds/sadbutchhours
Summary: On their five-year anniversary, Cordelia worries she's too old for Misty. She panics. Misty is there for her, always.
Relationships: Misty Day/Cordelia Foxx | Cordelia Goode
Comments: 8
Kudos: 71





	Just Let Me Hold You

“You’ve seen me naked before.”

“I know.”

Misty smiled down at Cordelia and climbed off of her lap, wiping away the tears on Cordelia’s cheek. She turned to lie next to her. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Cordelia shook her head. _I just want to think about it._ She didn’t know if she said that aloud.

Misty was right, of course. They had explored, touched, gazed at each others’ naked bodies for five years now, sometimes sexually, sometimes just for the sake of knowing a body, of holding someone the way Misty was holding her right now. 

So why had it been _now,_ on their five-year anniversary, that Cordelia had frozen at the sight of Misty’s bare abdomen above her and begun to cry?

She was nearly forty now, and Misty twenty-six. Just fifteen years ago she could have been Misty’s babysitter or even her schoolteacher. The thought disgusted her. She disgusted herself sometimes, just how much she _wanted_ Misty. The romantic desires felt safe -- she knew Misty loved walking in the woods with Cordelia and saving Cordelia the last slice of cake and calling Cordelia “baby” (and Cordelia loved it too). It was those darker wants: the want for Misty writhing underneath her, Misty’s breasts under her mouth, Misty crying out Cordelia’s name as she came. Those were the wants that made Cordelia’s breath catch in her throat as she told herself, _You’re disgusting. You’re fucked up. You’re dangerous._

She’d told Misty this, once, their second or third time. And Misty, always so patient with her, so forgiving, had stroked Cordelia’s hair and told her just how much she loved that Cordelia wanted her. 

“But what if I hurt you?” Cordelia had said.

“You can’t,” Misty had responded.

Now, Cordelia shifted in the bed, turning her back to Misty and shuffling closer to her. Misty pulled her close and swept Cordelia’s hair off her neck, pressing a kiss to the bump of her spine.

“I’m sorry,” Cordelia whispered.

Misty raised her head off the bed. “For what?”

“It’s our anniversary, damn it.” Cordelia could barely look at her. “We should have… I don’t know what got into me.”

“Oh, baby,” Misty murmured, leaning down and kissing her head again. “You never need an excuse. We don’t have to do anything just ‘cause it’s been five trips around the sun.”

Cordelia nodded, only half-believing Misty’s words.

“I’m serious. I don’t need nothin’, Delia.” Her words slurred and her accent thickened as she succumbed to sleep. “Jus’ wanna keep holdin’ you.”

The next morning, Cordelia woke up to an empty bed. Though she knew Misty had risen with the sunrise nearly every day since they had been together, a part of her still shouted _She finally realized how creepy and disgusting you are. She hates you. She’s gone._

The words bounced off the walls of her brain over and over as she sat up on the bed and looked in the mirror. She was aging, ugly, her blond hair beginning to streak with grey. She hadn’t yet felt her power beginning to fade, but she knew the beginning of the end couldn’t be more than a few years ahead. 

Some days Cordelia envied Misty. She was so young, so beautiful. So full of _life._ Suddenly Cordelia wished she could split the difference between them, make them both thirty-three, if only so Cordelia wouldn’t feel so horrible about being fifteen years older and fifteen years uglier. 

The door was pushed open, and Misty stepped in, catching Cordelia’s eye. “Morning, baby,” she said, coming over to sit on the bed next to her. She had put on a nightgown, flowy and colorful and not unlike her normal day clothes, and it skimmed across Cordelia’s shoulder as Misty leaned against her. “What are you thinkin’ bout?”

Cordelia inhaled slowly. “Nothing important. How long have you been up?”

“Not long. I let the cat out.”

Cordelia nodded and stared at her own hands. She could feel Misty’s youth, her life force, her exuberance radiating off of her. She was used to this feeling -- it was present every time they were within each other’s reach, which was most of the time. But now rather than feeling comforted or energized by the younger witch’s energy, Cordelia felt a surge of jealousy. She recalled how everyone -- including herself -- had thought Misty to be the Supreme, how even then they believed Misty more deserving. Forcing her jaw to unclench, she reached up to her own shoulder to take Misty’s hand. Something hummed between them at the skin-to-skin contact, and never before had Cordelia hated her abilities more.

With her free hand, Misty tilted Cordelia’s face up to her, searching her eyes. “Y’alright, Delia?”

 _No._ Cordelia reached up and kissed her.

In the beginning of their relationship, each kiss had felt transformative to Cordelia. Never before had she known lips so soft and loving. Hank’s lips had been possessive, hungry. And she, in all her cowardice, had called it love.

(She never wanted Misty to feel that in the way they kissed. Not ever.)

Over time Misty’s lips, the curves of them, had become familiar. Each time their lips met Cordelia felt as though she were coming home. Misty would always welcome her in, would always wrap her in her arms. It was no different this time. Cordelia pressed herself into Misty and let out a breath through her nose. Misty smiled at the sensation, pulling her lips back just slightly, and Cordelia leaned in harder. She was chasing something more than just Misty’s lips, though she wasn’t sure what.

As they continued to kiss Cordelia’s mind tumbled over their life together, over their future. She never used her power of the Sight while touching Misty, for fear of what she might see, but in a rush of fear she stilled her brain and focused on where their bodies touched.

She saw Misty looking down at her, tears in her eyes. She looked older, much older. Cordelia saw herself, hair long turned gray and body frail, in a hospital bed, cradling Misty’s face. Misty, who was older but still too young for _this,_ buried her sobs in Cordelia’s gown. Cordelia saw herself whisper something to Misty before something in her body deflated. Misty’s wails got louder and louder until they rang out in Cordelia's head like church bells.

Immediately she pulled off of Misty’s lips, her eyes shooting open and her whole body flailing away from Misty to try and end the vision.

“Hey, hey, hey, baby, what’s wrong?” Misty reached for her but didn’t touch her.

Cordelia sprang up, digging a set of clothes from the drawer without looking at Misty. “I need to get dressed.” As she walked past the bed again she took Misty’s hand and absently kissed the back of it, forcing herself not to go back into that terrifying world. Misty looked at her, bewildered, but said nothing as Cordelia walked out of their room and towards the bathroom.

As she got dressed in front of the mirror, Cordelia studied her own face. _So much like my mother,_ she thought, hating herself for it. Her mother had been so obsessed with herself, her youthfulness, and Cordelia shuddered at the notion of being half as narcissistic as she had been.

Still. Hadn’t Fiona done some sort of… ritual on some of the men she was involved with? She recalled her mother mentioning it one time, oversharing her sexual exploits as she was wont to do, and describing how she’d kiss men hard enough to suck the rest of their life out of them. Cordelia had been horrified, but now she wondered.

Perhaps she _could_ even out the scales. Day by day, kiss by kiss, she could take just a month off of Misty, giving it to herself, until they were even. She could even reverse-engineer the spell if she wanted to. If she got the math right they could just pass the same sixty years between them, over and over, they could be immortal --

“No,” she said aloud, slamming her hand on the sink. Her wedding ring made a sharp _clink_ against the porcelain, and she brought her hand up to turn it under the fingers of her right hand. 

She couldn’t do that to Misty. Hell, she couldn’t do that to herself, prolonging the inevitable like that. She would be no better than her mother.

Taking a deep breath, she exited the bathroom and was disappointed to find Misty was gone. She pushed open their bedroom door and descended the stairs, finding Misty in the kitchen, boiling water for tea. A few students sat at the kitchen table, stealing glances at the couple.

Misty caught her eye as she entered the kitchen. “Want some?” Her eyes searched Cordelia’s, but her face and voice gave nothing away, not wanting to worry the children. Cordelia nodded, grateful for the offer, and for Misty’s careful arm which wrapped around her waist and pulled her close. She kissed the top of Cordelia’s head.

“I love you so much,” murmured Cordelia, lifting her head to kiss Misty on the lips this time. 

Just before they pulled away Cordelia recalled the idea she’d abandoned in the bathroom. With their lips pressed together like this she could measure Misty’s remaining years like rings on a tree, not that she dared to count them, and it would be so easy to take one with her as she pulled back. Just one year. Half of one. A few months.

Before she could reprimand herself for thinking such evils Misty pulled away. “You’re not yourself, Delia,” she said quietly.

Cordelia felt tears roll down her cheeks and quickly wiped them away. Had the students seen? She turned her back on them. “I’m sorry.”

“We need to talk about this. Later.”

Cordelia nodded, embracing Misty. She didn’t deserve this kindness, didn’t deserve Misty’s arms around her, her warmth against Cordelia's chest. 

“In a million years I wouldn’t deserve you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Misty pulled her closer. “Just let me hold you.”

Cordelia wasn’t sure if she’d meant to echo her words from last night, but saying things twice only made them more true. Didn’t they?

“In a million years,” she said again.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! comments & kudos are always appreciated. love the rush of dopamine that comes from seeing numbers move on the internet. prompts! i want em! feel free to comment anything & i will write 4 u


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